There are no philosophical problems
Watched a very strange (arch, artsy) movie about Wittgenstein today- called Wittgenstein. It was more or less a meditation on the sheer strangeness of the man, the textbook example of "tortured genius" if ever there was one. If you aren't familiar with his story, you should read his wiki bio- he's truly fascinating.
He felt that there were no philosophical problems, and he spent his life trying to prove it. That's no so paradoxical as it sounds. In the end, he might've been right.
Anyway, the last lines of the otherwise boring movie were stunningly beautiful. I've gone through the trouble of transcribing them for you word for word (from google video).
Let me tell you a little story:
There was once a young man who dreamed of reducing the world to pure logic. Because he was a very clever young man, he actually managed to do it. When he had finished his work, he stood back and admired it. It was beautiful, a world purged of imperfection and indeterminancy. Countless acres of gleaming ice stretching to the horizon. So the clever young man looked around the world he had created and decided to explore it. He took one step forward and fell flat on his back. You see, he'd forgotten about friction. The ice was smooth and level and stainless- but you couldn't walk there. So the clever young man sat down, and wept bitter tears.
But as he grew into a wise old man, he came to understand that roughness and ambiguity aren't imperfections- they are what make the world turn. He wanted to run and dance. And the words and things scattered on the ground were all tarnished and ambiguous.
And he saw that was the way things were. But something in him was still homesick for the ice- where everything was radiant and absolute and relentless. Though he had come to like the idea of the rough ground, he couldn't bring himself to live there. So now he was marooned between earth and ice, at home in neither. And this was the cause of all his grief.
That's it right there. It's the part that Renunciation leaves out. Maybe I'm not strong enough, but I can appreciate the Renunciation and yet cannot let go of the yearning for eternity. I can understand loss and yet rage against the dying of the light. I can accept contingency and reach for perfection. The only philosophical problem is the reconcilation of eternity and loss.
There was one other great quote:
Wittgenstein: I should have liked to have written a philosophical work that consisted entirely of jokes.
Keynes: Why didn't you?
Wittgenstein: I had no sense of humour.
He felt that there were no philosophical problems, and he spent his life trying to prove it. That's no so paradoxical as it sounds. In the end, he might've been right.
Anyway, the last lines of the otherwise boring movie were stunningly beautiful. I've gone through the trouble of transcribing them for you word for word (from google video).
Let me tell you a little story:
There was once a young man who dreamed of reducing the world to pure logic. Because he was a very clever young man, he actually managed to do it. When he had finished his work, he stood back and admired it. It was beautiful, a world purged of imperfection and indeterminancy. Countless acres of gleaming ice stretching to the horizon. So the clever young man looked around the world he had created and decided to explore it. He took one step forward and fell flat on his back. You see, he'd forgotten about friction. The ice was smooth and level and stainless- but you couldn't walk there. So the clever young man sat down, and wept bitter tears.
But as he grew into a wise old man, he came to understand that roughness and ambiguity aren't imperfections- they are what make the world turn. He wanted to run and dance. And the words and things scattered on the ground were all tarnished and ambiguous.
And he saw that was the way things were. But something in him was still homesick for the ice- where everything was radiant and absolute and relentless. Though he had come to like the idea of the rough ground, he couldn't bring himself to live there. So now he was marooned between earth and ice, at home in neither. And this was the cause of all his grief.
That's it right there. It's the part that Renunciation leaves out. Maybe I'm not strong enough, but I can appreciate the Renunciation and yet cannot let go of the yearning for eternity. I can understand loss and yet rage against the dying of the light. I can accept contingency and reach for perfection. The only philosophical problem is the reconcilation of eternity and loss.
There was one other great quote:
Wittgenstein: I should have liked to have written a philosophical work that consisted entirely of jokes.
Keynes: Why didn't you?
Wittgenstein: I had no sense of humour.